Innocent Paparazzi
by Nebula Moon
Summary: For Syaoran, perfection was everything— even when he’s on the job as an undercover agent. For Sakura, his new partner, this was her response, “Yeah, unfortunately, criminals don’t care! Dammit, he’s moving! NOW SHOOT THE DAMN PICTURE!


**Innocent Paparazzi**

For Syaoran, perfection was everything— even when he's on the job as an undercover agent. For Sakura, his new partner, this was her response, "Yeah, unfortunately, criminals don't care if your pictures are blurry! Dammit, he's moving! SHOOT THE DAMN PICTURE!"

**Chapter One: The Ice Cream Couple**

Syaoran adjusted the camera's lens for the millionth time, trying to get the perfect snapshot—the perfect one to capture the moment of a lifetime. His breathing was slow and steady, and his mind was as clear as a crisp autumn afternoon. He briefly glanced at his assigned object, and he felt wonderfully important.

Ultimate perfection was the single reason why he existed.

"Syaoran shoot it, or he's gonna get away!" Sakura practically shrieked into Syaoran's ear. He calmly continued to readjust the lens, pretending not to hear the sharp edge of crazed fury that had taken complete control of Sakura's voice.

"Sorry to bust your bubble there, dear, but my photos take time."

"Yeah, unfortunately, criminals don't care if your pictures are blurry and shit! Dammit, he's moving! SHOOT THE DAMN PICTURE!"

"Sakura…"

"YES?"

"He's pulling a wedgie out of his fat ass."

Sakura roughly grabbed the half-million dollar camera out of Syaoran's hands and peered into it. He was right… as always. The large man who was covered from the tip of his bald head down to his arms in tattoos was really having trouble getting his tight wedgie out of his crack without letting his comrades see him. The poor guy. 

"We should send this to the World's Funniest Home Videos. We'd sooooooo win the jackpot." Sakura glanced up, a teasing glimmer in her forest-green eyes, as she directly gazed into Syaoran's perfect amber eyes. Syaoran turned around, purposely rummaging through his suitcase for a different size lens— but really, he was trying hard not to burst out smiling. 

No other girl ever had this kind of effect on him…so it somewhat bothered him that she, an amateur Japanese cop, had the power to make him smile so easily.

She almost made his job amusing…

Her carefree grin melted instantly to panic when she shouted, "The car's arrived! Big Boy is in the House! I repeat: Big Boy is in the House. Hurry up, Syaoran—the Wedgie Guy is handing something to baldy over there!"

Syaoran's concentration promptly refocused as he quickly placed the camera to his eyes, and snapped at lightning intervals. Sakura remembered to keep herself in check by keeping her jaw from dropping to ground. He was like a roaring machine coming to life— set distinctly apart from the world outside his 5 by 4 camera.

Suddenly, a loud, impatient rapping on the side of the truck caught Sakura's attention. 

"Damn those gangsters…" Sakura muttered under her breath— what kind of nosy moron was trying to interrupt their mission now?

Sakura pulled her gun out of the holster and readied it with three bullets. Some of the street men in Hong Kong were dangerous and desperate to get money— whatever the costs. No matter how dirty their hands would become…

She carefully concealed the gun in her lap as she opened the sliding window, feigning cheerful innocence.

"Sorry, but this ice cream truck is closed." She said with practiced ease, while secretly glancing left to right for suspicious strangers…it's amazing how cautious you become once you turn into an undercover agent.

"But…I wanted a chocolate fudge Popsicle." Sakura mentally kicked herself as she looked down, facing a lanky elementary kid. She could tell by his white and navy uniform and navy sailor hat, that he attended Koroko Elementary School. She noted that he was quite cute with his spiky hair and curious brown eyes. 

"Are you really an ice cream vendor?" he asked almost immediately.

Sakura stifled a groan as she thought, _Good going, Sakura, you can't even fool an elementary kid…_

Soon after he started again, "I apologize, I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just that I've observed that most ice cream vendors are males and extremely grumpy and bald, too. If you're not in business right now, I think it'd be wise for you to post a sign saying 'Not Open.' Well, I suppose that's what most businesses do when they're closing for a period of time. When I was younger, my grandfather used to buy me a chocolate fudge Popsicle every time we went to the park. He was so slow at eating his ice cream that it would melt and all the pigeons would start fighting over the little puddles of melted ice cream—"

Sakura's mind went blank after that, she was so overwhelmed at how much this little boy said, that she just nodded her head and slumped into her seat. Slowly, she felt as though she was listening to another abominably long and dreadful church preaching from a droning preacher.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah…" 

Syaoran perched himself on the seat underneath the back window and sighed after taking more than enough photos of the crime scene— more evidence for a serious drug suit, the press would be buzzing and reporters would be squawking to grab his world-famous photos. He thirstily grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled it to the last drop—savoring the cold numbness—and his ears suddenly tuned into the real world.

"—And back in ancient China, a man named Wong Chung Cream Fui became so hot and hungry during a drought, that he traveled far and wide—from Antarctica to Europe—and mixed ice, cream, milk, and sugar and invented ice cream."

"What the—" Syaoran began as he wondered who the heck was talking about such…

_Ice cream was made in __China__?_Syaoran suddenly found himself thinking, despite his extensive training in deep logic and law and government._ The one saying it sounds extremely reliable and confident, unlike some brown-haired, green-eyed feline I know…_

"Look, kid, that's really interesting and all," Sakura said as kindly as possible, "but right now I'm really busy, so why don't you come back tomorrow, okay?"

The inquisitive young boy replied good-naturedly, "Okay, I have to be getting home anyways…Papa's probably worried that I'm not home already. By the way, the name is Yamazaki— maybe we'll see each other another day!" 

With that, he continued on his jolly way home. Sakura placed her gun in her holster and released a hollow sigh, stretching her arms and back. 

Syaoran shook his head in quiet pity as he remarked, "I hope I never get married."

Sakura was slightly taken aback as she replied in mock indignation, "You were eavesdropping on our conversation?" Syaoran gave her a raised eyebrow that said clearly '_You almost blew your cover by a kid, and you know it.'_

"Well, I hope that someday, my Prince Charming will whisk me away and we'll get hitched in his mansion."

"Princes don't get hitched; they get arranged marriages." Syaoran said bluntly, turning his back to turn off the wall of computers that covered one side of the truck.

"Isn't it lovely how men think inside the box? They don't want to get married, they don't want to get soft-hearted or weak or fall in love— they've always got to be Mr. Macho Cool 24/7. Doesn't it get tiring?"

"Very much so." Was the simple reply and Sakura rolled her eyes as she closed the sliding window.

"You'd think by now that Boss would get us a better undercover alias than Mr. and Mrs. Tapioca of Goodwill Ice Cream. Or at least…" she stared sadly at all the machinery around her. 

"Or what?" Syaoran inquired, having finished turning off all the machines and gadgets and other miscellaneous do-hickeys. 

"Buy us an ice cream truck that comes with ice cream! _That would certainly make my day_!" She finished dramatically, waving her hands to make her point. Sakura then grabbed the keys off one of the littered counters and jingled it in front of Syaoran's face, "I'm driving—any objections?"

"Yeah, just don't get us killed." 

 


End file.
